


They're Cheesy for a Reason

by d-ama-ien (ama_janee)



Category: A Heist With Markiplier (Web Series), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Mark is only tagged bc still waiting on Yancy tag, Musical References, Picnics, Prison, ending where you stay in prison with Yancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-08 02:57:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21468943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ama_janee/pseuds/d-ama-ien
Summary: Written for First Visitation Day Gift Exchange on tumblr, gift for tumblr user @breadstickksssPrompt: Soft
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/You, Yancy (A Heist With Markiplier)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 82





	They're Cheesy for a Reason

**Author's Note:**

> Happy visitation day, I hope you've taken the time to go and see Yancy! If not, at least you can see him here!

It's been months since the incident that got me sent to Happy Trails Penitentiary. Sure, adjusting to prison life was a bit rough at first, and I still don't love when the guards are in a bad mood and beat us around, but the kindness of the other prisoners quickly made me realize it wasn't that bad to be in prison. And I was a model prisoner, so I didn't fall victim to the guard's bad moods very often.   
Of all the prisoners, I had quickly grown closest to Yancy. He was the head of the family, in a way, so he often took the new prisoners under his wing until they got their feet under them. My feet have been under me for months, to the point where I can even help out new prisoners myself, but Yancy still spent most of his free time with me. It's not like I'm going to protest, I love spending time with him. Anything from mealtime to lifting weights in the yard was a pleasure; it was a surprise just how _cute_ he could be, especially since I had heard from one of the others what exactly had gone down that led to him being sent here.

But, despite all his issues, Yancy was kind to the other prisoners, he valued the family he had built here above everything, he loved singing show tunes, even making and choreographing his own songs. When Yancy found out I was a musical fan as well, he had ranted about the shows he had seen for an hour before realizing how long he had been talking and apologizing. I found it adorable though, loving his enthusiasm, so we continued to talk about that for hours until the guards had to physically separate us for curfew. 

I don't see Yancy every day, he has to keep the family in shape, I have my own things to do, my own friends to hang out with, but on those days that Yancy is off with a new prisoner, I can't help but feel a bit moody. Each day, spent with or without Yancy, I'm becoming painfully aware that the feelings I have for him are more than platonic. It gets to the point where I have trouble reciprocating his friendly touches, finding myself daydreaming that instead of a platonic squeeze on my shoulder, he would lace his fingers with mine and squeeze our hands together instead.   
Yancy doesn't seem to be interested though, so I keep content with our friendship, enjoying the opportunity to know him any capacity. Sometimes, he makes it difficult for me to remain on the friendly side of things.

It happens while talking about first dates or first meetings in musicals. We were talking about romantic duets from our favorite shows, and the topic shifted to things like the start of the romance versus the big romantic finale when the characters will kiss and live happily ever after.

"I mean, is there anything cuter than I'll Cover You? Angel and Collins are absolutely perfect," I say, sighing as I remember the scene from Rent.

"Yeah, yeah, it's real cute until you remember the reprise that Collins sings after Angel dies," Yancy points out.

"It's still romantic! Depressing and awful, but those two have a love like nothing else, so even the reprise is romantic," I don't bring up how I cry like a baby almost every time I listen to the reprise. I mean, Angel's death and then the funeral and then all the breakups immediately afterward, it's a series of painful scenes.

"What about something cute and _not_ depressing, maybe that Prom show you were talking about?" Yancy was pretty behind on Broadway shows, makes sense since he's been here so long, but I had been doing my best to tell him about the ones I knew.

"The Prom ends cute, but that main relationship goes through some serious problems too. I mean, the one girl's mom is a homophobe and purposefully ruins the main character's prom night, leading the girls to break up. They make up, but you know I cried in the theater because of that moment," Yancy sighs when I explain more about the central relationship I had told him about.  
"Is every relationship depressing in musicals, or am I just not thinking of the right type of show?"

"I mean, if the relationships went well right off the bat, then it wouldn't be much of a plot," I point out.

"These musical characters got it all wrong, they just gotta do something simple. I think show writers underestimate the power of something cheesy like a picnic under the stars," Yancy throws his hands behind his head, leaning back casually while speaking.

"Aww, who knew you were an old school romantic," I tease, earning a scoff.

"Stuff like that's only considered cheesy because it works! Youse would agree if anyone did something like that for you," I'm almost offended at the insinuation that no one had ever done something cheesy for me. Still, none of my partners had set up a starlit picnic for me, so he was technically right.

"You got me there, I've never had anyone set up a picnic under the stars for me. But I think a normal coffee date would be the most realistic thing to portray in a show, I don't think picnics are super common anymore,"

"Do ya know what? I'll set up a starlight picnic for youse sometime, then you'll get what I'm talkin' bout," I laugh at what Yancy says, ignoring the stirring of emotions in my chest at the idea of Yancy doing something like that for me.

"Sure, Yancy, we'll see if that changes my mind," I agree.

"But, really, there's gotta be a relationship that goes well for an entire show," Yancy returns to the original train of conversation, and we spend the next hour of our free time trying to spitball shows with a straightforward and completely happy relationship.

After a week, that conversation is basically out of my mind. We have a lot of discussions, after all, and my brain space isn't only dedicated to Yancy, other things are going on around the prison to think about.

One evening I return to my empty cell, my cellmate had gotten parole a few days ago and hadn't been replaced yet. I turn on the small TV, it'll hopefully keep me entertained until lights out at least. The channels are minimal, I end up with some soap opera droning in the background while I take some time to read. They spoil us here at the penitentiary, but we're all about rehabilitation and rewards. Unless you get punished because when they give out punishments, you really suffer. That's why I keep on my best behavior, that's how I get these privileges. I'm just getting invested in a new chapter when the guard on duty stops by my cell.

"It's time for lights out, shut your TV off and get to bed," I oblige quickly, the guard walking away once I put the remote and book down by the, now off, TV. I slide under the covers of the bottom bunk, settling in for another good night of rest.

When I wake up, the cell is dim, I know it's still night, but I heard an unusual sound. I open my eyes slowly, blinking to adjust to the near non-existent lighting, and then I nearly jump out of my skin and have to muffle a scream.

Yancy has stuffed himself between the bunk and the mattress, grinning down at me. I cover my face for a moment, taking deep breaths to recover from the scare, before rolling out of bed to wait for Yancy to come out from under the mattress.

"What are you doing here? You nearly gave me a heart attack," I whisper my complaint, not wanting to draw the attention of the night shift guards.

"Just put ya shoes on, we got a picnic to get to,"

I blink in confusion as Yancy hands me my shoes, not sure I processed his sentence correctly. "A picnic?"

"You thought I was kidding?" Yancy laughs a bit as I slide my shoes on, "I really meant it when I said I'd take you out on a starlight picnic one of these nights," I suddenly recall our conversation from earlier this week, but I had seriously thought he was joking about that. 

"Wait, we're in prison. How are we supposed to have a picnic?" It's the middle of the night, I don't know how to wrap my brain around this.

"We're gonna break out," My mouth drops open in shock, I'm about to loudly demand an explanation when he rapidly waves his hands, "Temporarily! We'll come back, we ain't leavin' forever. Just for the picnic," I sigh in relief, I was almost sure for a second that this was Yancy's evil twin or an alien imposter and I was going to have to kill him. The Yancy I knew did not want to leave here anytime soon.

"Come on, if youse keep stalling, we ain't gonna have time for the picnic," Yancy nags as I finish lacing up my shoes. "But, before we go, youse gotta promise that you ain't gonna tell anyone the way out, and promise that youse won't go out for no reason,"

"I promise," I intend to finish out my sentence honestly, and while I like the other prisoners, I wouldn't want any of them out in society, so I definitely won't be telling any of them the way.

"Good, we'll skip the blindfold then," Yancy says with a grin, turning to move some of the decorations, revealing a small hole in the wall. He hooks a finger into the hole, apparently the wall here is just a panel that can be dragged open. We go through the tunnels, dodging some insanely heavy security measures that require very odd counting to get through, swim through a sewage pipe, which is as awful as it sounds, go through a series of increasingly complex instructions that I barely follow. Suddenly we're outside the prison gates. Yancy grabs my hand, pulling me along until we're clear of the building's light, walking along the edge of a nearby forest.

I gasp when we come upon the picnic Yancy had set up, a collection of candles surrounding a large blanket, a basket sitting in the center. Yancy smiles at my reaction, dragging me over to the blanket and encouraging me to sit on the blanket while he pulls supplies out of the basket. 

"Yancy, where did you get all of this?" I ask, totally delighted as he hands me a glass and pours me some sort of sparkling drink. He pulls out a plate of small sandwiches next, offering it to me before he pours himself a drink. 

"Cucumber sandwiches, really?" He even cut them into tiny triangles.

"You just gotta know where the guards keep their personal stash, they got all sorts of fancy stuff there. They won't miss any of this stuff, so we might as well use it," he explains, leaning back to support himself on his arm, watching me with a small smile.

"I can't believe you really set this up," I lean back as well, craning my neck to look up at the stars. They're beautiful out here; there's no light pollution out here, so the night sky is clearer than I've ever seen it.

"I'm a man of my word, and I said I'd set up a starlight picnic for youse. Do youse doubt my word?" I can tell Yancy is teasing, he nudges my shoulder how he usually does when poking fun, but I decide to answer anyways.

"I thought you were joking, honestly. I mean, why would you put in the work of setting all this up just for me?" Yancy's brows furrow at that.

"What do ya mean by that? Of course I'd do stuff like this for youse." Yancy ducks his head, rubbing the back of his neck shyly, "I care about youse, dummy,"

I wait for the joke or laughter to follow, but it never comes. My heart is nearly beating out of my chest, my cheeks burning red even if I'm sure he meant he cared as a friend.

"I care about you too, I really value your friendship," I reply, managing to smile at him. I swear his lips twitch into a frown for a moment, but it must be a flicker of the candlelight. I shiver a bit from a sudden breeze, Yancy immediately activates his "head of the family" instincts and starts rummaging through the basket.

"I thought it might get a bit chilly," he comments as he pulls out a fuzzy blanket, it's even my favorite color. I accept the blanket gratefully, wrapping myself up in the soft material. I stare up at the stars, trying to pick out constellations that I could remember, and I hear Yancy softly sigh from next to me.

"Hey, Yancy, I've got a question," I glance towards him, waiting for his nod before continuing, "Do you ever… do you ever regret getting sent here?"

It's a sensitive question, one I don't think I would ever ask while in the walls of the prison, but Yancy does not react at first.

"I…. I honestly can't say that I regret it. I didn't mean for things to go the way they did, but this life is better than anything I ever had on the outside. I got a real family here, and… I got youse," I twist my hands in the soft material of the blanket, quietly contemplating his answer.

"What about youse? Any regrets?"

"I miss my family, I guess, but otherwise, I can't say that I regret much. If I weren't here, I wouldn't have met you, and you're probably one of the best things to happen to me," I admit it, at least partially, getting those feelings into the open air under the stars.

"Come here," Yancy mutters, pulling me closer to him until I'm pressed against his side, resting my head on his shoulder. We sit in comfortable silence, relaxing under the stars.  
"I think you were right about these picnics," I mumble, sleep starting to take over. I feel Yancy's low chuckle more than I hear it, followed shortly by the press of his lips against my forehead. I doze off, comforted by the warmth of his body and the blanket surrounding me.

The next day I wake up in my usual bunk, half wondering if I dreamed up that whole picnic. That escape situation was ridiculous after all, and I can't imagine anyone, even a guy as strong as Yancy, being able to carry someone through all those security measures. And it's not like I can ask about it- if it did happen, that means we literally broke out of here last night. I shake off the thoughts, deciding to just go to breakfast and worry about it later.

"Hey, youse!" Yancy greets as I walk into the dining hall, "I saved youse a seat," he points out the chair in question, going over to talk to one of the other prisoners while I go and grab a tray of food and take my seat. 

"How'd ya sleep?" Yancy questions, winking when I raise my eyebrow at him. His hand finds mine under the table, intertwining our fingers and squeezing when I smile at him.

"I slept great, and you know after last night I just had this strange inclination that you had a point about those cheesy first dates,"

"I told youse, it's cheesy for a reason.”


End file.
